of solitude, I wish to dream

One hour in twenty-four, at least,

in which no ghosts tug at the roots of my hair,

and no desires trip my feet.

Blank, dark nothingness

is a sweeter nectar,

than visions of love and happiness

that, upon waking, cannot be.

For that of which i do not dream, do not taste,

cannot haunt me in the daylight,

or so the naive mind likes to suggest.

But…once a taste, forever on the tongue.

An empty sugar, such as hollow glass would be.

That which fills my heart with rest,

and yet keeps it melancholy.

Nesha Usmani

February 4, 2013

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